Division
by themidnightstar
Summary: What happens when circumstances prevent the brothers from working together on a new case? Warning: incomplete and on hold
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or the characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

Edit: Story edited to update A/N in chapter 1 and fix a typo in chapter 2.

A/N: The fact that I now have two stories going at the same time is no one's fault but my own. I will learn to be more patient. I will learn to be more patient. I will – oh, forget it! Bear with me and I will finish both stories. I promise!

Chapter 1

As they stepped outside the Pantry, a downtown restaurant known for serving huge portions of comfort food around the clock, Don stretched out his arms wide and took a deep breath of the crisp night air. "Thanks, buddy. I needed that."

Charlie grinned and waved off the gratitude happily. "Any time."

As David added, "Yeah, thanks. This was a great idea," and patted his back in appreciation, Charlie couldn't help thinking they were acting as if he'd taken them on a two-week vacation instead of a brief excursion only a few blocks away from the office. Of course, considering the kind of hours they'd been putting in over the last few days, an hour outside of the office probably felt like the height of luxury to them.

Don and his team were investigating the high-profile murder of a federal employee. She'd worked in the public relations department of the FBI and her death didn't seem related to any cases; but the FBI took her death very personally and the brutality of her murder had captured the public's attention. Don had shown him some preliminary information, but Charlie had concluded the case would not benefit from mathematical analysis – at least not yet. Charlie had promised to look at it again once the case was a little more developed and they had more data.

For now, the best way he could help was by dragging Don away from his desk before he forgot what it felt like to go outside. David, the only other member of the team still at the office when Charlie stopped by, was invited along.

The relaxed mood of the moment was spoiled by a reporter who'd apparently recognized Don as the lead agent on the case and been waiting around outside for a chance to corner him. Rushing forward, he called out eagerly, "Agent Eppes! Is it true the killer cut out the tongue of his victim, Michelle Gutierrez?"

Don replied coolly, "Federal agents can't comment on open investigations. If you're looking to frighten your viewers, you'll have to do it without our help."

With that, he brushed past the reporter and his camera crew and continued walking toward the SUV. David quickly fell into step beside him and Charlie hurried to catch up. The agents didn't look back once, but Charlie couldn't help glancing back behind him to watch the TV crew packing up and climbing back into their van.

Don and David were already settled in their seats by the time Charlie opened the door and climbed into the backseat. Don sat in the driver's seat silently fuming. As soon as the news van pulled away from the curb, Don slammed his fist against the steering wheel in frustration. "Damn! How are they getting this stuff? That's the third piece of intel in as many days. I swear – if I find out who the leak is, they're gone."

Horrified, Charlie leaned forward and asked, "You mean it's true? About her… tongue?"

Don looked up at the rearview mirror and froze as if just discovering Charlie was in the backseat. Nearby streetlamps cast enough light for him to see Don's eyes in the mirror and Charlie squirmed under his brother's intense gaze. He wasn't sure what he'd done and he suddenly couldn't find the nerve to ask.

When Don finally spoke, he didn't sound angry. In fact, he sounded almost heartbroken as he quietly said, "This is my fault."

"What?" David scoffed. "How?"

"I've gotten too loose. I used to keep everybody out. Then I let Charlie in. Now I let Charlie, Amita, Larry, my Dad…" Don trailed off and shook his head. "I let so many people in they could have their own parade."

David asked incredulously, "You don't think one of them is the leak? Do you?"

"No," Don replied firmly. His eyes shifted back to the mirror and it was clear he was talking to Charlie, as he said, "No. They're not the problem. I know that. But I set the standard. When I get loose, everybody else does too. They go home and talk to their wives, husbands, girlfriends, and… and who knows who else. And somewhere in all of that we have a leak."

Don dropped his gaze to stare out the windshield as he said, "It has to stop. Now. How many active cases is Charlie on right now?"

Charlie instantly felt the distance Don was deliberately creating as he looked straight ahead and talked about him as if Charlie wasn't right behind him.

David glanced back at Charlie before answering, "Um… two. The Palmer case and the bank fraud thing."

Don nodded tightly and said, "Cut him loose."

"Guys," Charlie tried to interrupt, but the conversation continued on without him.

"What?" David protested. "You can't be serious. Do you know what's involved…"

Don cut him off. "We have our own accountants. We don't need an outside consultant."

David shook his head. "Come on, man. Without Charlie it'll take weeks…"

Don turned to pin David with a cold stare. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I ask you to do your own work?"

David froze in shock at the unexpected reprimand. After a moment, he turned away to look out the window and grumbled, "Fine. Whatever."

Don glanced back into the mirror again and Charlie realized he couldn't identify the expression in his eyes. His brother's gaze was too guarded. Before he could say anything, Don broke off the stare and started up the car.

Charlie wasn't sure what to say, but he knew he had to try. "Don…"

Don shook his head as he pulled out into traffic. "It's done."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As soon as Don had pulled into his space in the office parking lot, David got out of the car muttering something about getting back to work and walked off without so much as a backward glance. It was clear that Don's earlier taunt about doing his own work had stung.

Don and Charlie continued to sit in silence long after David had disappeared into the parking garage elevator. Finally, when he couldn't take the stillness anymore, Charlie said, "Don't do this."

Don immediately let out a heaving sigh and let his head fall back on the headrest. Charlie was relieved to see Don let down his guard, but knew it was only a small victory. "Ever heard the expression 'Don't cut off your nose to spite your face'?" he asked gently.

There was a slight smile in his voice as Don replied, 'Yeah. And I never understood what it meant." He must have sensed that Charlie was about to explain because he held up a hand and quickly continued, "I mean, I know what it _means_. I just meant I don't know where that expression came from. I can't think that actual problem came up a lot."

"Well, perhaps 'Don't toss your math consultant brother off cases to spite a leak you may or may not have' was too wordy."

Don sighed. "No maybe about it. We have a leak. And I know it's not you and I know it's not Larry or Amita. Or Dad. But, how can I read my team the riot act about discussing the case outside of work when I do it too?"

Charlie was stumped. After all, his brother had a point. Of course, Don did it for a different reason. He did it to get information to help solve the case. Not to impress anyone or get some stress relief by talking things out. As Charlie began thinking about it, he realized that last part might not be entirely true. Sure, Don tended to broach the subject of his work in terms of how to solve a case, but he did seem to walk away feeling a little cheered whether Charlie was able to provide any help or not.

Don must have misinterpreted the cause of Charlie's silence because he grudgingly said, "Don't…just, _don't_, alright? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so hard on you and David before. I'm just… pissed off."

Charlie shook his head. Only Don could make an apology sound so petulant. "About the leak," he finished, to indicate he understood that he wasn't the one Don was mad at.

"Yeah. No. I…" Don slapped the steering wheel in frustration. "I'm mad because I _like_ working with you. And now, because of this leak, I can't."

Charlie was genuinely touched by the admission. That's why, even though it pained him, he offered, "We could… you wouldn't have to tell anybody."

Don twisted around in his seat to look at him and adamantly declared, "No. No way. I'm not that guy, Charlie. I never was. I don't ask you to do my homework for me and then ignore you in the hallway. Not ever."

Charlie glanced down and nodded quickly, fighting back old memories of failed attempts to make friends in high school. Don's pride had never allowed him to ask Charlie to do his homework for him. Others had felt differently on the subject, and the results had never been good.

"Besides," Don added gently, "I doubt anybody would believe me if I claimed I'd developed an overnight proficiency in applied mathematics."

At that, Charlie glanced up and smiled in agreement.

"Look, I'm going to start a quiet internal investigation. Look into new hires, new transfers, that sort of thing. Maybe I can find the leak quickly and this will all blow over soon."

"Well, if I can't help with the case, maybe I can help you find the leak." Charlie held up his hands when Don tried to interrupt and continued, "Look, the media has their secret weapon, right? Why can't you have yours?" In a joking tone he added, "You can give me all the credit after I find the culprit."

Don stared at him in surprise. "You'd really do that? Help me out like that? Even after I was, you know, less than nice?"

Charlie grinned. "What can I say? I like working with you too."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"_Federal agents can't comment on open investigations. If you're looking to frighten your viewers, you'll have to do it without our help_."

The image cut from Don's statement back to the investigative reporter who'd pounced on them outside the restaurant the night before. "That's the only comment Special Agent Eppes would make about the brutal murder of Michelle Gutierrez. We can only hope he found some new leads during his leisurely dinner." The camera panned over to reveal the restaurant behind him. "I'm Mark Garan, reporting…"

Charlie snarled and picked up the remote to click off the TV in disgust. Naturally, the reporter failed to mention the reason he'd corned them at the restaurant was because he'd been unable to gain access to Don any other time over the last few days because he'd been practically living at the office.

Alan, seated next to him on the couch, had a slightly different response. "Oh! I should've been taping it!"

Charlie turned to stare at his dad who shifted a little uncomfortably under his gaze. "What? I'm not saying it was the most flattering report ever, but come on. When was the last time you saw your brother on TV?"

The last time he'd seen his brother on TV, Don and his team were pinned down by gunfire in a shootout with bank robbers. But that probably wasn't the answer his dad was looking for. Fortunately, Charlie was saved from formulating a suitable response when the phone rang and Alan got up to answer it.

Charlie supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Alan was so proud of his sons that it sometimes colored his view of reality. Last year, Charlie had been invited to testify before a congressional subcommittee and it had been televised on C-SPAN. Upon reflection, even Charlie had to admit his testimony had been painfully boring, but his dad had lovingly recorded every moment on videotape.

Charlie idly plotted to find that tape and 'accidentally' record over his testimony with something better. He cheerfully mused over the myriad things that would qualify as more entertaining than his testimony: Golf? Bass fishing? An infomercial?

His thoughts were interrupted by Alan's excited cry from the kitchen. "Donnie! Yeah! Yeah, we just watched it. Nah, I forgot to tape it. Don't worry, I'm gonna call the TV station first thing tomorrow and see if they can send me a copy. They might. Well, they might. Oh, look who knows so much…" Alan wandered back to the family room with phone in hand as he searched for his reading glasses. "Yeah, well, I'm gonna look up the station's information right now and we'll just see who's right. Here – talk to your brother."

Alan shoved the phone at Charlie, muttering, "Kid thinks he knows everything."

"Hey, Don," Charlie greeted happily as he watched his father stalk off to his computer in a huff. He couldn't remember the last time someone had referred to Don as a 'kid' but it couldn't happen often enough in Charlie's book.

"Sorry about the news report," he offered sincerely. "That reporter is a real jerk."

"Ah, forget it," Don said. "Guy's just doing his job. It's not the first time the media's tried to make us look bad and it won't be the last. You can't take that stuff personally, you know?"

"I know," Charlie replied, but he couldn't help feeling guilty for unintentionally giving the reporter ammunition for his negative piece.

Don sighed loudly into the phone, allowing a little of his true feelings to surface. "Well, at least I looked okay, right?" he offered in a defeated tone.

Without waiting for Charlie to reply, Don switched to a new topic, teasing, "You should have heard Dad go on about your testimony on C-SPAN. 'He looks good, but the _hair_. They don't have barbers in Washington?'"

Charlie snickered and glanced over in the direction Alan had disappeared before whispering, "You don't remember what happened to that tape do you? I was thinking of accidentally taping over it with an old rerun of 'Seinfeld' or something."

"Forget it, buddy. That tape holds a place of honor in my home."

Charlie sat up straighter, surprised and touched by Don's words.

Don continued, "Yeah, that thing's better than any sleeping pill on the market. Five minutes and I'm out. Guaranteed."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or the characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for the reviews. They've been quite helpful and interesting! And I appreciate them all!

I offer my grateful thanks to rhiannondavidson for agreeing to beta these chapters. She was nice enough to point out a typo in an earlier chapter and you know what they say: No good deed goes unpunished. Thank you, Rhiannon!

Chapter 4

Charlie slumped back in his chair with a sigh as he realized he'd lost his place in the file he was reading for a third time. He'd been sitting in his office sifting through personnel files for hours and they were all starting to run together. Normally, the FBI did most of the research and just gave him the raw numbers to plug into his equations. But in this case, Charlie thought it best to do the work himself since it was FBI employees that he was investigating.

Don was convinced the leak was a new hire or recent transfer. However, game theory suggested that a more entrenched, trusted member of the team would have a lower risk of discovery and a higher chance of gaining access to sensitive information. He suspected Don simply preferred to think the leak indicated a flaw in the hiring process rather than a betrayal by a trusted member of his team.

Director Merrick had approved the investigation and the agents had all signed waivers as part of the hiring process agreeing to periodic background checks. Still, accessing personal information such as performance reviews and credit reports really brought home to Charlie how much trust Don regularly extended to him and he vowed to be more diligent in his discretion.

Just as he was about to pick up the file again, Larry appeared in the doorway. Charlie waived him into the office eagerly, happy to have an excuse to put the work aside for a moment.

"Hello, Charles," Larry greeted. "What new intellectual pursuit has captured your imagination?"

Charlie closed his laptop and leaned forward, crossing his elbows on top of the open file in front of him in a move that he hoped seemed casual. "What, ah, what makes you think I'm working on something new?"

Larry raised his eyebrow and replied in a bemused tone, "Well, I assume _something_ kept you from attending Dr. Endel's lecture today." Pointing to himself he added, "Even I, a mere theoretical physicist, recognized the unique opportunity…"

Charlie tuned out Larry momentarily so he could concentrate on resisting the urge to bang his forehead against his desk repeatedly. Dr. Endel, a strange but brilliant mathematician, was something of a recluse. He disliked public speaking and rarely traveled to other universities. Charlie had been looking forward to attending his presentation for weeks, but he'd gotten so wrapped up in his investigation that he'd forgotten all about it.

Charlie looked up to see Larry watching him with a concerned expression. "So, what is it? Some new case for Don?"

"Ah, n-no, it's… I mean, I'm not…" With a sigh, Charlie abandoned his stumbling evasions and admitted, "I really can't discuss it."

Larry chuckled as he sank into the visitor's chair across the desk from him. "Charles, I'm well aware that you occasionally work on classified projects. I've never taken offense before when there was something you couldn't tell me. Therefore, logic would suggest there's no reason to expect a different reaction from me now."

"Thank you, Larry. I see your point. It's just that…" Charlie lowered his voice and confided, "Don thinks someone in his office is leaking information to the media. About the Gutierrez case. That woman who was murdered a few days ago…"

Larry nodded in recognition and screwed up his face in disgust over the vicious nature of the crime. "Yes. I've seen reports about it on the news."

Tapping the file in front of him, Charlie explained, "I'm looking into all the agents who've had access to the case, trying to determine which of them have the highest probability of passing or selling information to the media."

"But aren't you making a false assumption?"

Charlie tilted his head, intrigued by Larry's challenge and eager to hear any insight he had. "How so?"

Larry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he explained, "Well, I mean it's more than the FBI that you have to look at isn't it?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes, Don thinks it may be someone an agent is talking to in confidence who's passing the information on to a reporter."

Larry pressed his fingers together in a thoughtful gesture. "Well… Yes, that's certainly possible. But, actually, what I was thinking of was all the other people who might have inside information about the crime." He began ticking off examples on his fingers. "Employees of the coroner's office, the unfortunate individual who discovered the body, the police officers who first arrived on the scene…"

Charlie leaned back in his chair, realizing that his list of suspects had just grown quite a bit. "I see what you mean."

"Well, I'm afraid I've made your load heavier instead of lighter. Can I make amends by offering my help with your research?"

Charlie hesitated, sincerely tempted by the offer, but then shook his head. "No. I'd prefer to work on this on my own. It's not that I don't…"

Larry waved off the explanation as he stood up and started toward the door. "Don't apologize. No offense taken. The files you're reviewing no doubt contain some very personal information. I'm sure Agent Reeves and the others appreciate your discretion." As he reached the door, he turned and paused to survey the tall stacks of files piled on Charlie's desk. "Well… good luck, Charles."

As soon as Larry walked out the door, Charlie almost called him back. Instead, he took a deep cleansing breath and went back to reading the file in front of him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Acting on Larry's advice, Charlie refined his search by focusing on exactly what pieces of information had been leaked to the media. Unfortunately, that once again left him with someone at the FBI as his primary suspect. The fact that the victim's tongue had been cut out postmortem was discovered during the examination at the coroner's office. That eliminated as the leak anyone who'd only had access to the body before that information was known, such as the police officers who'd first arrived on the scene.

Similarly, the media reported that the killer carved words and symbols into the woman's body with a kitchen knife he found in her apartment. That eliminated anyone in the coroner's office, because the bloody instrument was found in her trash and identified as part of a set long after the body had been sent to the morgue. The coroner could have identified what type of knife was used, but not the weapon's owner.

David and Colby had tried pressuring the television reporter who'd received the information into giving up his source, but he'd insisted he was protected by the first amendment. They'd threatened to jail him for obstructing justice and he'd seemed almost gleeful at the potential national exposure. His producers had been less excited about the possibility of a lengthy and costly court battle, but they were prepared to defend him if necessary. Aside from the ethical issues of jailing the reporter, it would have cast a very bright spotlight on an internal leak the FBI would prefer not to acknowledge. Charlie had to admit he was less than comfortable with the idea anyway.

Meanwhile, the reporter continued to release new information to the public and do an impressive hatchet job on the FBI's investigation. Alan, who'd been happily recording a report that focused on Don, stopped the tape after the reporter implied that an agent who'd gone from running his own office in Albuquerque to a lower position here in the LA office must have been transferred and demoted due to his own incompetence.

Don dropped by the house the same night of that report, while Alan sat working on a crossword puzzle and Charlie was grading exams.

"Hello?" Don called out as he walked through the door.

"Hey, Don," Charlie immediately called back. "We're in here."

Don paused to deposit a couple items on the table in the entryway before walking over and joining them. "So? Did you watch it? How'd I look?" When he didn't get much of a response from the room, he asked his dad with a teasing grin, "You did tape it, right?"

Alan, who'd been in a sour mood all evening, replied without looking up from his crossword puzzle, "No, I didn't tape it."

"No?" Turning to Charlie, he mouthed, "That bad?" and Charlie nodded.

Don grimaced in response. "Oh. Well…"

Alan pulled off his reading glasses irritably as he looked up. "You should sue those people, Don."

Don rolled his eyes as he headed off toward the kitchen. "You can't sue them if it's true, Dad."

"Donnie, they said you were demoted when you moved back here from Albuquerque!" Alan exclaimed.

Returning to the living room with a beer, he shrugged as he settled onto the couch beside Charlie. "So?"

"So?" Alan repeated incredulously. "So, that's not true!"

Don held up his hand. "It is true. Look, the agency fit me in where they could. They didn't have to approve the transfer at all. And if that had been the case, I would have had to quit my job altogether."

Charlie was startled by Don's casual admission of how much he'd been willing to give up for his family, but Don didn't seem to notice as he continued, "Was it a perfect solution? No. Do I hear occasional whispers that I couldn't cut it in Albuquerque? Yeah." The fiery tone with which he'd begun petered out after that admission, and he continued in a quieter tone, "I did what I did to be where I needed to be. I've got no complaints." The last statement was aimed directly to his father, and they held each other's gaze for a moment before Alan looked away.

Charlie, who'd been wondering about something else since they'd watched the news report, quietly noted, "They said you were suspended for excessive use of force during your time in fugitive recovery."

Don sank back into his seat on the couch with a sigh. "Yeah. Well, you know all about it. I mean, you read my file, right?"

Charlie shifted eagerly in his seat, turning to look more directly at Don. "Actually, no. I decided not to since I've already eliminated you as a suspect, obviously." Charlie waited to be congratulated for his newfound sense of self-control. It had taken all his will power to resist opening that file, but he wanted to show Don he could be trusted with secrets.

Instead, Don kept his eyes on the label he was absently peeling off his beer bottle and asked quietly, "You didn't read it?"

Confused by his brother's reaction, but still proud of his self-restraint, Charlie declared, "Nope. It wasn't relevant. So, I decided not to read it!" His smile faltered as he took in Don's hurt expression. "Don?"

Don stood up quickly and began pacing. "What is with you guys tonight, huh?" Turning to his father he asked, "They do a whole feature about me and you don't tape it? You tape everything!" Pointing to Charlie, he continued, "You complain you don't know anything about my life in Albuquerque, but I give you my whole file and you can't be bothered to read it?"

Stunned by Don's reaction, Charlie sputtered, "What? Don, I…"

Don cut him off with a wave of his hand and turned back to his father. "You know, most families have a ton of baby pictures of the first kid and only a few of the younger ones. This has to be the only family…"

Alan stood up. "Don…"

Whatever he'd been about to say was interrupted by the ringing of Don's phone. He swiftly pulled it off his belt, answering, "Eppes."

Charlie and Alan remained still, watching him listen to the person on the other end.

Glancing at his watch, Don said, "Ok. I can be there in twenty minutes. Yep. Yep. Ok."

Don looked over at Charlie and explained, "There's been a second murder. Not a government employee this time, but a woman killed in the same highly ritualized style as the first." Reaching out and placing a hand on his dad's arm, he said in a softer tone, "Look, I… I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

With that, he turned and headed over to the entryway table to scoop up the things he'd dropped there earlier. Charlie stood up and drifted closer to the door, wanting to offer his help with the case and knowing he'd be rebuffed. Helplessly, he watched his brother put up his hand in a vague wave before rushing out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Hold the elevator!"

Charlie pressed the 'open door' button and then cursed under his breath as Colby slipped into the compartment beside him with a grateful smile. "Thanks. Wouldn't want to get in trouble with the boss for being late," he joked with a sly wink.

Charlie smiled uncomfortably and shuffled over slightly to put some more distance between them. Normally he enjoyed Colby's company, but today Charlie would have preferred to avoid him. He stared up at the floor number display and willed the elevator to move faster.

"I hear Don put ya in the doghouse. No more helping us on cases." Charlie glanced over in surprise and Colby shrugged. "It's hard to keep a secret around this place." He waited a moment before adding, "I also hear you're investigating agents to try to find the leak. Any leads?"

Charlie's throat tightened, but he pushed the words out. "A few." Eager to change the subject, he asked, "How about you?"

Colby chuckled slightly and said, "So far, our best suspect is Don."

Charlie's head snapped around to look at him in shock. "What?"

Colby shrugged. "It's probably just a weird coincidence. But so far, the one person who we know for sure had contact with both victims within a few days of the murders is Don." Cutting his eyes over to Charlie he added, "That's the thing about investigations. You have to look at more than just the circumstantial evidence. If you don't, you could end up accusing the wrong person."

Charlie swallowed nervously, but before he could reply the elevator doors opened to reveal Don waiting on the other side. He raised his eyebrows slightly before stepping back to let them pass. "Colby. Charlie," he nodded.

"Hey, Don. See ya 'round, Charlie," Colby said quickly before heading toward his desk.

Don let the elevator go and watched Colby walk away for a moment before turning back to face Charlie. "You here to see Merrick?" he asked.

Charlie nodded once. There was no reason to feel guilty about it, but he did anyway. Don had taken some heat for his decision to pull Charlie off of two active cases. Director Merrick had eventually agreed to allow Charlie to focus solely on investigating the leak. But there was a catch. Merrick had insisted that Charlie bring the results to him personally. He wasn't allowed to discuss his findings with anyone else in the office. Including Don.

Don glanced around and lowered his voice before cautioning, "Charlie, you can't pal around with your primary suspect. What'd you two do? Carpool in together?"

Charlie was shocked. He'd run through the numbers three times trying to come up with a different result. He refused to believe Colby was the weak link, but each time he calculated the probabilities, Colby's name came out on top. "How did you know…"

Don stepped to the side slightly to better block their conversation from anyone passing by and lowered his voice still further. "He's impulsive, he's up to his ears in debt, and he has a history of disagreeing with his partner. Now, the fact that he hasn't made any complaints lately could be a sign he's settling into the team. Or it could mean he's decided just complaining doesn't do any good. Believe it or not, it doesn't take a genius to figure out he'd be at the top of your list."

"But he's still working on the case, right?"

Don nodded and reached around Charlie to press the down button for the elevator. "Yeah. For now."

"What's that supposed to mean? You're not thinking about taking him off the case are you?"

"I'm not. You are. Come on, Charlie. What do you think is going to happen when you tell Merrick that Colby's your chief suspect? Merrick will say he doesn't believe a word of it but better safe than sorry, and before the end of the day Colby will be pulled off this case and reassigned to some old cold case."

"And David?"

Don looked surprised and asked, "Is David a suspect?"

Charlie stayed quiet, but his face must have given something away because Don relaxed slightly and said, "Then he'll continue to work on the case. Without Colby."

"But that's not fair! We don't know that Colby's done anything. He—" Charlie cut off his words as the elevator doors opened and three agents walked past them.

Don exchanged greetings with the agents and stepped into the empty elevator with a shrug. "Don't tell me. Tell Merrick. I'm not allowed access to your case and you're not allowed access to mine. Remember?"

Don let the doors slide shut without waiting for a reply. Charlie was starting to regret offering to help with the internal investigation. He'd already been feeling guilty and now he felt worse. With a start, he realized he hadn't even asked Don how he knew both victims. Sighing, he readjusted the shoulder strap on his backpack and trudged off toward Merrick's office.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or the characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the lack of updates over the holidays. Thank you for your patience. Special thanks go to my fabulous beta, rhiannondavidson, for her help. Thank you, Rhiannon!

Chapter 7

"...murder investigations are, of course, a matter of public record. But we routinely withhold certain details from the media for the good of the investigation. Not that we don't value our relationship with the press, you understand; quite the opposite. In fact, we frequently turn to them for help in alerting the public to..."

Charlie ground his teeth in frustration and resisted the urge to start drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. So far, the meeting with Director Merrick was going exactly as Don had predicted. As soon as Charlie identified Colby as the most probable source of the leak, Merrick decided to remove him from all active investigations. He tossed off a few casual reassurances that it wouldn't go down on Granger's record as a disciplinary action without further evidence and seemed to consider the matter settled. That fact that Merrick didn't seem as interested in the other names on the list suggested he'd been looking for a scapegoat.

Charlie had tried explaining that calculating probabilities could only tell you the most likely outcome. It was hardly conclusive proof, especially when dealing with experimental probability. He even used a baseball analogy he knew Don would have appreciated. When logic failed, Charlie quickly found himself raising his voice. He refused to believe Colby would knowingly do anything to hamper an investigation.

Waving off his protests, Merrick launched into a lengthy lecture on FBI policy regarding releasing information to the press. Charlie smiled to himself as he recalled Don's significantly shorter version. "Look, leaks are serious. Right now it's just this case, but it could easily be worse. When we set up a raid, we kinda like for it to be a surprise, you know?"

But the smile disappeared as Charlie began to dwell on the possibilities: Don and his team trying to serve an arrest warrant only to find that their suspect had fled—or worse, set a trap for them. The vivid memory of watching a house suddenly explode from the safety of Megan's car flooded his senses.

Charlie wasn't sure how long he'd been lost in his own thoughts, but the next thing he knew Merrick had wrapped up his speech and stood up to signal the end of the meeting.

He leapt to his feet, eager to escape the infuriating blowhard, and then hesitated. Don had shut him out of the murder investigation. This meeting with Merrick might be his best chance to learn more about the latest murder and new data could help him clear Colby and identify the real source of the leak.

On the other hand, going over Don's head to get information felt like a betrayal. He knew Don would see it that way, and things were already tense between them. What if Merrick wasn't aware there was a connection between Don and the victims? Charlie didn't even know what the connection was. For all he knew, it was just a coincidence. And despite his certainty that Colby wasn't the leak, a small part of him wondered if what Colby had said about Don knowing both victims was even true.

Growing impatient, Merrick prompted, "Was there something else?"

"I was just wondering. Will Don still be the lead investigator on the Gutierrez murder now that it looks like the work of a serial killer?"

Merrick chuckled and shook his head. With an indulgent smile, he replied, "Surely, a man of science such as yourself doesn't believe in curses. Agent Eppes has no qualms about his continued involvement in this investigation and neither do I. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for another meeting. My assistant, Lisa, can validate your parking."

Before Charlie had a chance to reply, he found himself ushered out of the office with Merrick close behind him. Charlie fervently insisted he would continue his investigation until he found the true source of the leak. But Merrick was clearly only half-listening as he collected some documents from his assistant. "Keep me informed," he called out with a dismissive wave before striding down the hallway and disappearing around a corner.

Charlie paused to slip his folders back into his backpack and offer a polite smile to the woman in front of him. Her arched eyebrow and disapproving demeanor suggested she blamed him for putting her boss behind schedule. Charlie briefly considered explaining that Merrick's own long-windedness was responsible, but one look at her sour expression told him she wouldn't be won over easily. Rolling his eyes, he turned and slunk toward the elevators in defeat. Along the way, his eyes searched the room for a friendly face. Not that he knew what he'd say to any of them after getting Colby kicked off the investigation.

When he managed to reach the elevators without running into anyone he knew, Charlie didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. Before he could decide, he heard a voice call out behind him, "Hey, Charlie."

He turned around to see Megan rushing by. Flagging her down, he quickly asked her about a new possibility he'd been considering. "Megan, is there any chance the information leaked to the media could have come from the killer?"

Megan flashed him a teasing grin. "You guys must think alike. Don asked me that too." Her expression sobered as she continued. "I'll tell you the same thing I told him. Anything's possible, but in this case, I'd say no. Serial killers who contact the media usually do so either to further a stalled investigation or to gain notoriety and prove how much smarter they are than the authorities. The information leaked to the media was information we already had, so there's nothing new to help us solve the case. And serial killers seeking attention will identify themselves as the killer, sometimes going so far as to provide proof of their identity. We haven't seen any indication of that in the news reports."

The elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open behind him. Stepping into the compartment, Charlie realized his last, best hope for finding a source of the leak outside of the FBI had just been defeated. But he managed a smile anyway. "Okay, thanks, Megan."

As he pressed the button for the lobby, Charlie didn't know how to ask her all the other questions swirling around in his mind. Had he just damaged Colby's career? Was Colby telling the truth about Don? Would there be another victim soon?

Apparently, Megan didn't know what to say either. As the doors slid shut between them, she pressed her lips together in a concerned expression and simply held up her hand in a slight wave.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Charlie stepped back from the blackboards in his garage and absently tried to massage a cramp out of his writing hand. Over a week had passed and his search for the leak continued without success.

After the infuriating meeting with Merrick, Charlie had called Don expecting sympathy and been sorely disappointed. "You gotta understand, Charlie, it's not like the academic world. We don't care about your process the way that you do. Yeah, it's important. Yeah, we want to learn from it. But at the end of the day, no one's gonna care about how I _almost_ caught a guy. Results are what count."

Rather than get into that debate, Charlie had pressed him for information on the murder investigation. But Don flatly refused; countering that part of their problem with the investigation was that it had become difficult to determine whether the second murder was the work of the original killer or a copycat.

Don insisted that stopping the leak had to remain a priority. If that meant Charlie's continued absence from their cases until such time as the leak could be found, he was willing to accept that. Charlie noticed the unspoken assumption that Colby was not the source of the leak.

When Charlie asked him if the second murder seemed like the work of a copycat, Don's answer had been frustratingly vague. "I don't know. It feels wrong. But the first one did too."

Charlie had tried to get Don to explain that comment, but he made the mistake of asking how a murder could feel 'right.' Don had been insulted, arguing that it was his job to examine scenes from the criminal's point of view. He heatedly declared that being detached or morbid or whatever else Charlie wanted to call it was part of the job.

Charlie had lost his own temper at that point, tired of getting cryptic answers from everyone and feeling shut out. The whole conversation quickly disintegrated into a shouting match until finally Charlie had hung up on him. As soon as he disconnected the call, Charlie pulled the cell phone away from his ear to stare at it in shock. He couldn't believe he'd just hung up on Don, but he'd been so angry it was either that or say something he knew he'd regret. His heart pounded and he half expected the phone to ring any moment with an irate older brother demanding to know where he got off hanging up on him like that. But it didn't. Instead, the phone remained silent and they hadn't spoken since.

As a result, the only information he had on the second murder was what he'd seen on TV. Christina Cavallari had recently moved to Los Angeles and just started a new job as an accountant for a large real estate investment firm less than a month before her death. Her boyfriend had appeared in several interviews, tearfully begging anyone with information on the case to come forward. She'd lived in the same area as Don, but in a city as heavily populated as LA that didn't mean much. If there was a connection between Don and the second victim, Charlie didn't know what it was.

So far, there hadn't been another murder like the first two and there hadn't been any new leaks to the press. Of course, that didn't stop the investigative reporter with the inside source on the first murder from continuing to rehash the lurid details that were known. He also continued to criticize the FBI's investigation and their inability to find the killer.

Glancing at his watch, Charlie decided to give up and call it a night. It wasn't that late, but his brain was fried and he had an early class in the morning. He repeated both thoughts to himself to ward off a wave of guilt as he turned off the lights behind him and headed for the kitchen.

"Hi, Charlie," his dad called out from the living room as he heard Charlie walk in from the garage.

"Hey, Dad," he called back without slowing down. As he opened the refrigerator and perused the contents, he tossed over his shoulder, "What's up?"

Alan's voice was suddenly much closer as he replied, "Donnie was just here."

Charlie startled in fright, but resisted the urge to spin around. He refused to acknowledge how easily his father had snuck up behind him. "Oh, yeah?" he asked casually as he reached for a jar of pickles.

"You know, it's funny," Alan observed, "that's the exact same response I got from Don when I told him you were here. Did you two have a fight or something?"

As he attempted to twist the lid off the jar, Charlie avoided his father's eyes as he replied, "No, we didn't have a fight."

Alan crossed his arms and fixed him with a disbelieving stare.

Charlie sighed and set the jar on the counter to get a better grip. "We just decided to give each other a little space. He has his work and I have mine. What's wrong with that?" Charlie comforted himself with the thought that this was technically true.

Alan dropped his hands to his side and adopted a less challenging stance. "Nothing. But, Charlie, it seems like you two have been avoiding each other lately."

Charlie had to bite back his first response because the truth was that they _had_ been avoiding each other. Don had cut back his visits to the house and treated Charlie's presence there like a coincidence. Charlie rarely went to the FBI office anymore, and when he did he made a beeline for Merrick's office.

Charlie shook off his thoughts and refocused on the stubborn lid. "We're not… avoiding each other," he grunted out as he struggled to open the jar. "We're just not… spending all our… time together."

"Uh-huh."

Growing frustrated with both the jar and the conversation, he began banging the bottom of the jar against the corner of the counter with a little more force than necessary. "You know what? Leave me alone, okay?" he spat out irritably.

Wordlessly, Alan reached over and plucked the jar out of his hands. He wrapped one large hand around the top and twisted off the lid. Then he calmly handed back the jar. "Okay, Charlie."

Charlie reached in and fished out a pickle as he warily watched his dad turn and walk away. He didn't seem upset, but Charlie strongly suspected he'd have to pay for that fit of pique sooner or later.

Without turning around, Alan commented in an even tone, "Donnie got mad when I asked him about it too."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"So basically, you haven't made any progress on the case at all?" Charlie asked in disbelief.

This was the continuation of an argument he'd been having with Don since they'd arrived at the restaurant. It had begun as soon as Don had met up with Charlie and Alan outside, continued as the hostess had shown them to their seats, and barreled on as the busboy came by to fill their water glasses a few minutes ago.

Charlie had started off intending to avoid the subject. He'd simply asked Don how everybody at the office was doing. He felt cut off from them and he missed their company, but he had difficulty facing the people he was investigating. Especially Colby, since he had been relegated to cold cases and low-level assignments. Don had gruffly replied 'fine' and quickly glanced away. Feeling defensive, Charlie had responded by grilling Don about his stalled-out murder investigation.

Don shot him an irritated glance over the top of the menu and sarcastically replied, "Are you kidding? I figured out the identity of the murderer and where to find him weeks ago. I just figured, why arrest him? Live and let live – that's my motto."

"Alright," Alan interrupted in a warning tone.

Charlie picked up his own menu as he grumbled, "It was just a question."

Don leaned forward and hissed, "Do I pester you about how come you haven't solved some equation yet?"

Charlie rolled his eyes in disbelief at his brother's audacity. "Actually, yes. You do that all the time! Every time you ask me to help on a case…"

Don interrupted, "Well, that hasn't been a problem lately, has it?"

"Enough!" Alan announced in a firm tone. Charlie would have laughed at how easily two grown men could be cowed by one word from their father; but he was too busy staring down at the empty place setting in front of him in silence.

When he was sure he had their attention, Alan continued, "I invited you both to dinner so we could have a nice evening out and celebrate the fact that my new business has just won our first big client. Not so you two could snap at each other all night."

"Sorry, Dad," Charlie replied guiltily.

Don chimed in, "Yeah. We're sorry. It's great, really. We're proud of you."

Charlie raised his water glass and offered a toast, "To your recent success with your new business."

Alan's expression softened slightly, but he corrected, "You're not supposed to toast with water, Charlie. It's bad luck."

To Charlie's surprise, Don leapt to his defense. "Oh, come on. Who cares about luck? This new business is gonna be unstoppable." He raised his own water glass and repeated part of Charlie's toast, "To your success."

Alan finally relented and raised his own water glass. As he reached it forward to clink with the others, they chorused, "Success."

As he took a sip of water, Charlie chanced a glance across the table and was relieved when Don smiled at him. Charlie smiled back and made a conscious effort to relax and simply enjoy his family's company. This was the restaurant where they always went to celebrate birthdays, graduations, and other special family events. The truth was it was really Mom who had favored the place, but over the years they'd come to associate it with family and it seemed wrong somehow to go anywhere else on special occasions. Looking across the table at his brother, he realized this was the first time he'd seen Don in weeks.

Before he could say anything conciliatory to Don, the waiter appeared at his side. "Good evening, gentlemen. Have you had a chance to look at our wine list? I can bring you something straight away if you like." He lowered his voice to a whisper and delicately warned, "Bad luck to toast with water, you know."

Charlie slumped down slightly in embarrassment at his social gaffe, but Alan shook his head while searching his pockets for his reading glasses. "That old superstition? I don't believe it."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charlie trailed after his father and brother as they walked out of the warmth of the restaurant into the cold night air, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. By keeping certain topics firmly off the table, they'd actually managed to enjoy a pleasant meal together.

As they waited for the valets to bring the cars, Alan turned to his sons and pinned them both with a sharp glare. "I'm tired of this ongoing battle between the two of you. I shouldn't have to chastise you like children to get you to be civil to one another. You've shown me tonight that you can still get along when sufficiently motivated."

As the valet pulled up in his car and stepped out to hand him the keys, Alan announced firmly, "Charlie, I don't want you to come home until you've resolved this thing once and for all." Turning a hard stare on Don, he added, "Whatever it is."

Stunned into silence, they watched their father tip the valet, get into his car, and drive away. They stood side-by-side watching the car pull out of the parking lot and merge into traffic.

Don managed to find his voice first. "Dude. Did you just get kicked out of your own house?"

Charlie flung his arms out and sputtered in disbelief, "I… I think so! Yeah!"

Don turned to him with a considering look. "Can he do that?"

Charlie knew what he meant. The fact that Charlie actually owned the house now made it all the more ridiculous. But he held out a hand in the direction Alan had just driven off without him and pointed out, "I, ah, I think he just did."

Don nodded thoughtfully, conceding the point, as a second valet pulled up with his black SUV. Stepping forward and collecting his keys, Don casually tossed over his shoulder, "Sucks to be you."

Charlie blinked, realizing he could end up abandoned here at the restaurant if he didn't move fast. "Hey!"

Don didn't bother to turn around, but there was a smile in his voice as he replied, "Yeah, yeah. Get in."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or the characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: The science in this chapter is from Wikipedia. Many thanks as always to my beta, rhiannondavidson. Thanks, Rhiannon!

Chapter 10

"…a tiny mass of radioactive americium-241, which is a source of alpha radiation. The radiation passes through an ionization chamber. That's an air-filled space between two electrodes. A small, constant current flows between the electrodes. When smoke enters the chamber, it absorbs the alpha particles, which reduces the ionization and interrupts the flow of current, setting off the alarm. And that's why the smoke alarm above us right now contains radioactive material."

Charlie was slouched down on Don's couch with his feet up on the coffee table, staring up at the smoke detector on Don's ceiling. The muted TV in front of them played a late-night sports news recap on ESPN, but neither one of them paid it much attention.

A low, drowsy voice beside him commented, "I can't believe this is how I'm spending a Friday night."

But the affection in his brother's voice softened the complaint enough that Charlie just smiled. Earlier that evening, their father had given them strict instructions to go talk out their differences. So, naturally, they'd talked about every topic under the sun except the one they were supposed to be discussing. 

The conversation the entire ride back from the restaurant had centered on their father as they exchanged stories of previous times he had seemingly forgotten that his sons were now adults. Charlie had enjoyed the discussion immensely. As much as he loved his dad, there were definitely moments when he regretted his decision to buy the house. Laughing as he related incidents that had annoyed him at the time, he relished the opportunity to vent to an audience that could truly understand. Plus, it helped to know his older brother occasionally suffered from similar treatment.

By the time they'd reached Don's apartment, Charlie found himself enjoying the truce between them so much that he hated to do anything to disturb it. Apparently, Don was equally reluctant to risk sparking a new argument. Each time Charlie had tentatively raised the issue, Don found a reason to get up from the couch and putter around the apartment.

Asking Don how well he knew the victims got him a curt, "Not well," and then several minutes of Don moving restlessly about the place, picking up dirty dishes and yesterday's newspaper as he muttered something about not expecting guests.

Inquiring if he honestly believed Colby was the leak resulted in a quick, "Nah, not really," and another few minutes of Don hunting around for sweats and a T-shirt for Charlie to sleep in, a towel for him to use, and even a spare toothbrush.

After that, Charlie had relented and changed the subject. He entertained Don with more stories about life with Dad, and as the evening wore on he related some recent events at Cal Sci. Don, in turn, told him about a couple new cases he was working on in addition to the murder investigation. He spoke in general terms, avoiding any specifics, and Charlie resisted the impulse to offer advice. Eventually, they'd run out of things to say and settled into a companionable silence, interrupted occasionally by Charlie's observations about air filters and smoke detectors. 

Staring up at the ceiling, thinking about all the things he wanted to say and was afraid to say, a new thought occurred to him. "Hey, did you ever apologize to David? You know, for that night outside The Pantry. You kind of snapped at him…" Charlie let his sentence trail off hoping Don would finish it, but was met with only silence.

Just when he'd concluded Don wasn't going to answer, his brother replied with a quiet, "Nope."

"Why not? You should…"

Don sat up a little and turned to look at him. But his voice remained calm as he explained, "Look, we have a chain of command for a reason. When I give an order in the field, I don't have time to poll everybody on whether or not it's a good idea. The only way I can trust that my team will follow my orders when it counts is to condition them to follow my orders all the time." 

When Charlie opened his mouth to comment, Don held up his hand and continued, "That doesn't mean I don't listen to anybody else. You tell me 'hey, I've got an idea' and I'll hear you out. But that's not what David was doing. He wasn't giving me an alternative, he was just complaining 'cause he didn't like my idea. When I first put David and Colby together, you would not believe how much whining I got from the both of them. And I shut them down every time. 'I don't like it' or 'I don't want to' is never gonna win me over. Convince me you have a better plan, but don't ever just sit around and tell me how much my plan sucks." 

Settling back down against the couch, he admitted with a self-effacing grin, "I may not always express that well…"

"Ah-ha! See? _That's_ what I'm saying," Charlie gloated. He had to admit, some of what Don had said made sense. But the fact was Don had been out of line to accuse David of not working hard enough; something they both knew was about as far from the truth as you could get.

"Yeah, yeah," Don grumbled as he stood up from the couch. "That's it. I'm going to bed," he commented before ineffectively covering a wide yawn with his hand. "Goodnight, Charlie."

Charlie sat up in surprise as he watched his brother shuffle off toward his bedroom. "Hey! What about… aren't we gonna talk about… you know…" 

Barely glancing back, Don assured him with a vague wave, "Later, later."

Watching his brother's retreating back, Charlie felt completely ridiculous as he complained in a quiet voice, "But… I can't go home."

Don stopped short and leaned against the door jamb of his bedroom heavily. Running a hand through his hair in a weary gesture, Don finally turned around to look at him. "Tomorrow, okay? We'll figure it out tomorrow."

The reassuring certainty in his voice was convincing enough for Charlie to nod in agreement and allow his brother to stagger off to bed. But as he sat in the dark living room with only the glow of the TV for company, he began to doubt the truth of Don's statement.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs or the characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Two new chapters! Thank you for the encouraging reviews. Special thanks to my beta, rhiannondavidson. Thanks, Rhiannon!

Chapter 11

After a few hours of restlessly flipping from side to side on Don's narrow couch, Charlie finally abandoned all attempts to fall asleep. Which was how he came to find himself searching through his brother's DVD collection in the dead of night with only the low light from the floor lamp beside the couch to guide him. He reasoned that it didn't count as snooping since they were stored in plain sight. After running through the entire collection, he finally made his selection. As long as he kept the sound low, Don should be able to sleep through it.

The DVD player slid open to reveal a silver DVD with an FBI property tag. Charlie glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom door guiltily, but it remained firmly shut. Examining the label more closely, he realized this was a copy of something checked into evidence. He was accustomed to receiving copies rather than originals from the FBI and he recognized the signs. But the label gave no hint as to what was on the DVD.

He began to pace. There was absolutely no reason to look at what was on it. It was probably something boring. It could be endless hours of footage from a surveillance camera or some tedious deposition that had nothing to do with the murder investigation.

Charlie glanced over at the bedroom door again.

He could just watch it for a minute. Not even a minute. Just a few seconds really. Enough to identify what was on the DVD and then he'd shut it off. If he kept the sound low, Don would never find out.

Charlie froze and held his breath as if his brother might hear what he was thinking.

Picking up the remote, he turned on the TV and repeatedly pressed the volume button, turning it all the way down to the lowest setting. After one more cautious glance at the bedroom door, Charlie pressed play before he could talk himself out of it.

The screen switched to static and Charlie's heart leapt to his throat before he remembered he'd already turned the volume down. After a moment, an image of cubicle walls filled the screen. The image bounced around unsteadily as if the person holding the camera was running.

Charlie knelt down in front of the TV in fascination as the camera operator rounded a corner and Charlie recognized Don's office. The camera made a beeline for Don's desk and then the image swung dizzyingly from side to side as if to check that they were alone. It must have been late at night because most of the individual desk lamps were off and no one besides Don and the mystery camera operator was around.

_Glancing up, Don rolled his eyes and held up a hand to block the camera. The camera lowered to point at the floor and the voices were too low to hear. _

Completely absorbed now, Charlie quickly bumped up the volume to catch the tail end of Don's complaint.

"…_hate that," Don grumbled._

"_You're gonna like it," a female voice promised in a singsong tone. Charlie didn't recognize the voice._

_The camera swung back up and focused on Don, who glared back._

"_Now be nice, or I won't tell you who won," the woman teased._

_Don's mood instantly improved and he chortled, "Oh, yeah? They finally made a decision, huh? 'Bout time. I swear they put more effort into this thing than an actual commendation. Okay, how 'bout this? You give me the name, let me place the bet in the office pool, and we'll split the winnings fifty-fifty." One corner of his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile was the only sign that he was kidding. "I mean, sure, some people might consider it cheating…"_

"_Don, would you shut up a minute?" the woman interrupted in a tone that was half excitement and half exasperation._

_He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as his face took on an expectant look._

_The woman holding the camera only lasted a few seconds before blurting out, "Well? Don't you want to know who won?"_

_Don arched an eyebrow before explaining in a sarcastic tone, "Yeah… that was the first step in the plan, remember?"_

"_It's you!" she declared happily. _

_Don blinked and then broke out in a big grin. He glanced away, managing to look both proud and embarrassed at the same time. _

_Recovering quickly, he hid the smile and fixed his face and body into a study in casual disinterest. "You're kidding me, right? Is that what the camcorder is about? You starting your own office version of 'Punk'd'?"_

"_No! For some crazy reason, I thought you'd be happy."_

_Don scrubbed a hand over his mouth before complaining in a cynical tone, "You know that damn award is cursed, right? I'm probably gonna get hit by a car or something now."_

_The woman laughed, "Shut up and be happy for once, Eppes."_

_Don leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "Man, my dad is gonna…" he let the sentence trail off unfinished, but whatever he was thinking about made him smile._

_Looking up, Don said in a sincere tone, "Thanks, Michelle."_

Charlie's blood ran cold. A woman, named Michelle, who worked in Don's office and had advance knowledge about something Don had won. Michelle Gutierrez, the first victim, had worked in the public relations department of the FBI. Despite his earlier claim, Don had clearly known her quite well. And he should never have been assigned to this case.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Totally focused on the image on the screen, Charlie unconsciously shifted into a more comfortable sitting position in front of the TV as he bumped up the volume a couple more times with the remote.

"_Guess this blows your theory that you didn't have a shot at winning, huh?" Michelle teased from behind the camera. _

"_Yeah, yeah," Don grumbled, but his smile belied the gruff tone._

"_Okay, let's hear your acceptance speech. Go!" she commanded. _

_Don groaned, "Gimme a break. I'm in for enough of a hard time as it is, alright?" _

_Michelle laughed and started playing with the zoom feature on the camcorder._

_Suddenly, Don stood up. "You know what? Gimme that thing," he demanded as he came around the desk._

_The view shifted as she rapidly backed up out of reach. "What? Who says you get a turn?"_

"_Come on. Hand it over." When that failed to work, he jokingly added, "Hey! A little respect for an award-winning agent if you please."_

_Michelle stayed safely out of arm's reach and scoffed, "Pfft! Call someone who cares!"_

_Don chuckled at that and held up his hands to concede defeat._

"_So what's the story with the camera, anyway?" he asked as he settled onto the edge of his desk. _

"_Like it? It's from a secret admirer. How weird is that?" she replied._

_Don's posture shifted immediately and his relaxed mood was gone. "Um… pretty weird, Michelle. That's an expensive present."_

"_I know…" she grumbled, with the sulky tone of a child who knows she's about to be told to put down a toy._

"_Didn't your mother ever teach you not to accept presents from strangers?" Don teased. The comment was joking, but his tone was serious._

_Her voice held a smile as she shot back, "Nope, just candy. She never barred the acceptance of camcorders. Besides, I think I know who sent it to me."_

_Don crossed his arms and waited._

_Michelle sighed. "Okay, okay. A few months ago, I dated this guy. We only went out a couple times before I figured out he was a little too 'out there' for my taste. Anyway, ever since then he's kind of hovered around in the background. Hangs out at places he knows I like to go, leaves messages on my voicemail, that sort of thing."_

_Don's frown deepened with each sentence._

"_Oh, don't give me that look! Trust me, he's harmless. A little weird, maybe, but harmless."_

"_Okay. So tell me about Mr. Harmless. What's his name?"_

_Michelle jeered, "Forget it, Eppes! I'm not gonna tell you, so just knock it off with the overprotective big brother routine."_

_Looking nonplussed, Don opened his mouth to say something when she cut him off._

"_Uh-uh. I'm serious. Just drop it, okay? Or I'll tell everybody that when you found out you won, you were so moved you cried."_

_Allowing himself to be cajoled out of pursuing the matter further, he gave a mock gasp. "You wouldn't!"_

_She taunted, "Oh, yeah. I'll tell 'em you cried like a little girl."_

"_Yeah?" Don growled playfully, "Maybe I'll give you somethin' to cry about." He faked a lunge toward her and she darted away with a loud shriek of delight._

_The camera swung around crazily for a moment._

Then the image suddenly shut off and static filled the screen. Only this time, the loud accompanying hiss wasn't just in Charlie's imagination.

Charlie fumbled for the power button on the remote. But it was too late. Standing in the now-open doorway of his bedroom, Don glared down at him.

Charlie swallowed nervously and could feel his heart pounding. His mind scrambled for a good excuse and came up empty.

Don closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The tightly clenched fists at his side suggested he was struggling for patience. But when he opened his eyes again, all he said, in a voice still rough from sleep, was, "You always go through my stuff."

Recognizing the familiar complaint from their childhood, Charlie responded automatically, "You always had cool stuff."

Don stared off into the distance over Charlie's head, shaking his head slowly and seemingly engaged in some inner debate.

Unable to stand the silence, Charlie cautiously said, "I'm sorry I woke you."

When Don looked confused, he gestured toward the TV and explained, "The um, the TV was loud. I'm sorry I…" he trailed off uncertainly and wished he could fade into the walls.

Don rubbed a hand through his hair, making his hair stand up at odd angles. "For a second there, I thought I was dreaming again."

Charlie tilted his head slightly, curiosity pushing aside his fear momentarily. "You dream about it?"

Don nodded. "Sometimes," he sighed. "In the good dreams, I get to warn her and things go differently, you know?" he added with a sad smile.

It felt like the start of a joke, the way you know something else is coming. So he quietly prompted, "And in the bad dreams?"

Don looked down at his feet. "She asks me why I didn't do anything to protect her."


End file.
